


Strange Times

by zappactionsdower



Series: blue lion au [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Family Reunions, Awkward all around, Awkward parties, M/M, awkward dating advice, felix is too goshdarned cold in this country, where awkward things go awkwardly wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappactionsdower/pseuds/zappactionsdower
Summary: As if Felix and his old man talked every day.  Or... often, ever since he'd stood Catherine up with the excuse that he was going to take some time off for soul-searching, or whatever sounded better than “I'm staying with a team of wanted art thieves in a 'quaint' country and I might be regularly having sex with you childhood friend's son in his pathetic excuse of a royal palace.'”A sequel to script of the bridge.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: blue lion au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710649
Comments: 55
Kudos: 53





	1. Here Today

In college, before he'd gotten sick of the whole farce and left his master's program at least, Felix had been a morning person. It wasn't due to any natural perkiness or some magic skill; it was that everyone else _wasn't_. If he woke up at five, he could go for a run unhindered, get breakfast without a line, and never have to worry about annoying people in his apartment complex.

Now though...

Now he was going to murder the annoying buzz coming from the small night table behind him. And maybe chew out whoever had left the curtains open enough to let the sunlight in right on his face.

“Let it ring.” Felix murmured sourly as his (very warm) pillow began to move. He felt a low rumble of a chuckle and it just made him more irritated. A too-big hand moved to the back of his head just as his pillow stretched past him to get the source of all of Felix's ills.

It was Dedue, just based on the low hum of Dimitri's voice. Felix muttered another curse and slid deeper beneath the thick goose-down blankets.

Dimitri, the utter bastard, slid out of bed and went to the window. Felix was not watching him, and definitely not checking out how many scratches and welts were currently running along his back (a lot) and the pretty noticeable hickeys on his throat (and oh, Felix still felt the way the blonde's teeth dug into his jugular, like a beast, desperate and hungry)...

No.

Felix resolutely closed his eyes. All that could wait. The bed – the nice, _warm_ bed, was far more important.

“Do you want to shower first?” Dimitri asked him, ever the gentleman. (Not really.)

“As if you'd not jump in there in minutes.” Felix growled out, his voice muffled by the more-comfortable, less-warm pillow he'd buried his face in.

“Perhaps. I do like having someone that can reach my back,” Dimitri said, stretching.

Liar.

Lech.

Felix's dick gave a weak twitch anyway.

Still, he was determined. Mostly. Considerably. Nothing on Earth or beyond would move him from this wonderfully warm bed to deal with a frustratingly frigid Faerghus morning.

He dozed, sleepy gaze fixed on the window and the trees outside. The Blaidydds didn't have a _palace_ so much as a small private mansion with stone-hewn gates. There were guards scattered about, but it was almost absurd just how little the royal family seemed to care about being separate from their citizens.

 _It's said that if, for whatever reason we rule unjustly, the mountain itself will swallow us._ Dimitri had mentioned the first time Felix had scouted the area and declared it a security disaster in the making. _But it's not like we have all that much power anyway. Most decisions are made through the ruling council, and they get re-elected every five years._

 _You're too stuck on fairy tales._ Felix had groused as he'd kicked at a door. _And your guards didn't say a word about me going **anywhere** on the premises. I could have been an assassin._

Dimitri had given him _that_ smile. The wolf-sharp one that made Felix's spine tingle. _Do you think so_?

 _I could still decide to murder you in your sleep_.

As if on cue, Dimitri emerged from the bathroom, half-dressed and hardly presentable. Felix sniffed as the blonde tugged on a loose henley and a turtleneck sweater. His hair was _fluffy_ , and completely absurd, and insulting Felix on a personal level.

“You're not going out like that, are you?” he asked, watching the prince toy with a hair band.

“I think I should cut my hair.” Dimitri answered, glancing towards him.

“What? No. Just...” Felix gave up, damn him. “Just come here.”

Obediently, the blonde sat on the edge of the bed so Felix could tie his hair back _properly_. Really. It shouldn't have been that complicated.

“See you for lunch?”

“Maybe.” He had _plans_. Plans that Dimitri didn't necessarily need to know about. “So... “

Dimitri's mouth was warm and tasted like cinnamon toothpaste. Felix's tongue licked at his teeth, felt his hands curl around the thick weave of his sweater as he was pushed back against the bed.

It was hard, coming back up for air. Felix finally sighed, bumping their foreheads together.

“See you soon.” Dimitri hummed as he sauntered out, closing the door behind him.

The bed was too damn cold to stay in.

The first thing Felix did in the morning, once he finally gave up the comfort of a warm bed and a hot shower, was read the news. Not all the news, because he wasn't _that_ masochistic, but certain parts. Art showings, galleries, strange happenings that tended to make the back pages instead of the front.

The second thing he did was read reports from Interpol. Not that he had long, or that Annette wasn't constantly playing around with his connections and complaining about server issues, but it seemed to work well enough.

The third thing was reading about Munich.

The news was mostly dry – one unexplained death of an older banker that had been found dead in his estate after choking on an apple. Festivities, and dull chatter, and nothing at all that anyone else would care about.

Felix made a note to look in to things further. Later.

Sometimes Dimitri would eat breakfast with him and sometimes he didn't. Either was fine; Felix wasn't a kept... whatever they were. He had a _system_ now, and one that didn't always include blonde beasts.

Today, Dimitri was absent from the relatively large room that served as the main dining area. Tables and armchairs were spread out near huge windows, with a circular table in the center that usually had all sorts of pastries and snacks. One of the chefs had already placed out bacon and eggs with thick waffles, and the people that usually haunted the mansion had already taken a huge chunk from the spread.

Felix took what he wanted and went down to the large common area that was typically restricted to only Dimitri's friends and guests. Ingrid was there, going through her third (third!) plate of gratuitously syruped waffles and eggs.

“That's disgusting.” Felix grimaced, and earned a glower as Ingrid dug her fork into a large piece of waffle. “How can you _eat_ that?”

He already knew the answer of course. He'd seen her in the gym, and seen how hard she trained and how easily she could dislocate someone else's jaw.

All that energy had to come from _somewhere_.

Felix settled into his normal chair at his normal table and tried very hard not to look at the horrendous disaster that was Ingrid's breakfast. From here, he could see the mountains surging upwards in the distance and the grey clouds that promised dismal weather.

He had no idea why anyone would willingly _stay_ in this country.

“So are you prepared? About your father coming here?”

Felix's attention jerked back, certain he'd misunderstood. “What?”

Ingrid's lips twisted into a disapproving frown. “Your father. He's coming here. To meet His Majesty for... some reason or other.”

That... didn't sound right.

That didn't sound right at all. Felix's hackles rose, the little voice in the back of his brain whispering that something was _off_.

“Didn't you know?”

“He didn't mention it.” As if he and his old man talked every day. Or... often, ever since he'd stood Catherine up with the excuse that he was going to take some time off for soul-searching, or whatever sounded better than “I'm staying with a team of wanted art thieves in a 'quaint' country and I might be regularly having sex with you childhood friend's son in his pathetic excuse of a royal palace.'”

Okay.

There was a lot more to unwrap than that, but Felix didn't believe in introspection. Especially not over his current predicament.

“Interesting.” Ingrid murmured, almost to herself. She stood up and stretched, and Felix had the distinct impression that he was – again – hearing only half of the conversation. “Maybe he just wanted to surprise you?”

Rodrigue was not fond of surprises. His whole _career_ was built around avoiding surprises and solving mysteries in service of some kind of concept of justice and do-goodery.

“Maybe.” He frowned, poking at the remains of his breakfast. Fine. Things were _fine_.

“His Majesty's birthday celebration _is_ in a week. Maybe that's it.” She gathered her plate and silverware together. “Goddess, Sylvain's going to be an ass about it. Especially...” She darted her gaze to Felix, and then back towards the door. “Well. See you later, Felix.”

Felix's eye twitched.

“You didn't tell me. That my father was coming.” Felix muttered as he stood beside Dimitri, both their gazes fixed on the foot gate. He'd spent most of the day trying to gather more information from less-patient staff and had – very briefly – considered asking Sylvain for more details. But the redhead had been nowhere to be found, and apparently the staff had become quite accustomed to ignoring the new houseguest as long as Felix didn't start trying to break in to locked doors again.

(It wasn't intentional the first time – who had old latchkey closets anyway? And the second time was _entirely_ blown out of proportion because Dimitri hadn't been around to unlock the door leading in to the wine cellar for him.)

“I just found out this morning. I did ask if you wanted to come with me.” Dimitri kept their fingers tangled loosely together, and Felix resisted the urge to let go. He... needed to tell his father. Before his father _noticed_. But it was cold still, and Dimitri was a good source of body heat outside.

“Tch.” He tugged his hoodie on tighter. “Deciding on party decorations isn't my idea of entertainment.”

“I think you'd be good at it.” Ugh. Hardly. Felix tch'd as in the distance, the wide steel gates began to open. A black car rolled up the winding hill towards them. Felix took a step to the left, and Dimitri straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.

The car stilled, and Felix had a moment to calm himself before the rear doors opened.

Lambert appeared first – a mountain of a man that he'd still only interacted with a handful of times. But he was laughing, and waved at them both.

And on the other side of the car, Felix's father appeared. Felix tried very hard to _not_ look startled as his father laughed – _laughed_! - at something the blonde king had said.

This was...

Weird.

“Felix! Mitya!” Lambert waved over one of the many staff members that had already rolled a small cart up with the intention of unloading the trunk. “Roddie was just telling me about...”

His words faded in and out.

Roddie?

 _Roddie_?

Dimitri gracefully took over, greeting both older men with practiced poise and a helpful hand. Felix watched, feeling like he wasn't even in control of his own body as his father came up, hugging him in a way designed to be entirely embarrassing and suffocating.

“Long time no see.” Rodrigue gave him a once-over, and Felix felt like he was being picked apart inch by inch. “You never told me you'd ended up here.”

“You didn't ask.” Felix did his best to look stoic. “So... hello, Old Man.”

Rodrigue ruffled his hair. “Help me get my things in, all right? He's letting me have my old room when I used to visit.”

Old room.

His father had an _old room_.

Felix forcefully composed himself and picked up a suitcase.

“I think this is the exact same wallpaper.” Rodrigue mused as he paced around the large bedroom, touching random pieces of furniture with far more fascination than a piece of old wood deserved. “Lambert and I used to stay up late trying to get our midterm projects done. I think you were here once... when you were very little. You cried, because y...”

“I don't _cry_.” Not anymore. And he definitely didn't remember ever being in Faerghus. “So...” Why did it have to be _awkward_? How did his Old Man always manage to make things... awkward?

“I'm glad, is all.” Rodrigue sat down in a large blue armchair covered in old, worn velvet. “Isn't it funny, that you came here on your own? Fate, I suppose.”

“Right, well...” He needed air. Already. Felix liked his father, aside from a teenage spat or... many, they got along well. Better with Glenn, who was still out there, waiting to be found. “Call me. I guess. If you...”

“The Blue Lion.”

Felix's blood turned icy.

“He's here, isn't he?” His father leaned forward, voice dropping. “And I think you know exactly who he is.”


	2. Nostalgia

Felix still remembered the first time he lied to his father. It was a stupid lie – he and Glenn had been playing video games in the living room when Felix had accidentally gotten tangled up with one of the wires and fallen forward…

Right into his great-grandmother’s porcelain vase.

Glenn had already run upstairs, leaving Felix alone to bite back tears and anxiously try to hide the evidence behind the sofa. It had made sense at the time, because then it was just missing, right?

His father had come inside and just _looked_ at him, as Felix hastily tried to make up some overly-complicated lie about watching a scary movie about dinosaurs and volcanoes and aliens and that he didn’t know _where_ it had gone, because he’d been too busy hiding from the spaceship on the screen.

Rodrigue had simply leaned down and gently gripped Felix’s shoulders, blue-grey eyes somehow seeming bigger and sharper than Felix ever remembered before. He’d talked about _honesty_ and _trust_ and all those quaint ideals that had made perfect sense to Felix as a child, until he’d learned what his father and brother spent their days doing and how much _wiggle room_ , as Glenn had called it, there was in words.

But he still didn’t like lying to his father. It didn’t end well. Ever. Somehow, he always felt like his old man just _knew_ , and was only humoring him until he came clean.

And no way in _hell_ was Felix going to be honest about _this._

“What are you on about, Old Man?” Felix crossed his arms and looked away. Wallpaper. Focus on the wallpaper. The very ugly, very floral wallpaper. “I told you. I didn’t find anything.”

His father didn’t move an inch. He had _that_ look – the one that made Felix feel all of seven years old and his father just _waiting_ for him to admit to wrongdoing.

What sort of decorating hell did that wallpaper come from anyway?

“Felix.” Rodrigue’s voice stayed calm. Sickeningly level. “I know you. You haven’t given up on anything. Ever. _Gravity_ is less stubborn about things than you are.”

“Your jokes are still terrible.” If he just focused on the wallpaper, on the ugly way it clashed with the carpets… “I didn’t find anything. About… anything.”

“But you chose to come here. Which, as far as I know, has nothing whatsoever to do with art thieves or Glenn.”

Felix flinched. The steady way Rodrigue talked about Glenn. As though he wasn’t missing him too. As though he hadn’t lost a son. As though he was _happy_ that Glenn was still… somewhere. Alone.

“Dimitri invited me.:”

“You met him in Paris…”

Shit. He’d walked right into it. “In a club. The day before I planned to leave.” Focus on the wallpaper. Dimitri… he’d never really mentioned any kind of cover story or anything. Of course, Felix had never really… said they were dating either. Did you need a story for a hookup?

Did it still _count_ as a hookup at this point?

That wallpaper was an affront to nature. If he was lucky, the sheer amount of ugly _might_ kill him.

“And you came here because…”

“Because we’re…” Dammit. Felix felt his face flush, the thought of Dimitri’s warm fingers tracing along his hips suddenly far more intrusive than the eye-gougingly terrible wallpaper. “We’re… doing… things.”

He missed the way Rodrigue’s eyes widened. He definitely didn’t miss the awkward cough.

“You and Dimitri….” Rodrigue rubbed at his chin, and Felix prayed for the wallpaper to come alive and eat him already. “Well…”

“Can we talk about something _else_?” Felix hissed, covering his face with his hand. Breathe. _Breathe_. Goddess. “No. I didn’t find the damned Lion. I haven’t found Glenn. I can read a paper just as well here as I can anywhere else and at least you haven’t been on my back about taking _stupid_ risks lately.“

“Are you making sure he wears a condom?” Rodrigue asked.

Felix stormed out, making sure to slam the door as loudly as possible behind him.

“Are you going to kill that punching bag? Please don’t kill that punching bag.”

“Shut up, Sylvain.” Felix seethed as he slammed his fists over and over again into the black fabric. “Why are you even here?” Sylvain didn’t usually visit the small gym tucked in the basement of the mansion, or at least not when Felix used it. He had no doubt the redhead was doing _something_ though because he and Ingrid were a team unto themselves.

That did questionably legal things.

That his father could and _would_ find out about.

“Waiting for Ingrid so we can do some stuff. For the record, you’d better not let her see you like this. She’d be personally offended at how bad your left hook is.”

Felix snorted. _Glenn_ had taught him to fight, and fight dirty. Ingrid had a personal trainer, and one that apparently spent most of his time sleeping in a corner. “She can fight me if she wants to.” It felt good to hit something; think about nothing at all but force and form and anything other than…

Than his father, watching him, watching everyone and _knowing_ ….

The redhead whistled, leaning back further to sprawl all over a very beaten up leather sofa. “So – I don’t _think_ you and Dimitri had a fight because His Highness didn’t mention it when we were talking earlier. Daddy issues?”

Felix slammed his fist so hard he could feel his knuckles crack. 

“Your dad seems like a nice guy. Maybe a little too _dad_ , but mine’s a politician so….” Sylvain shrugged. “Could be worse, Felix. Just wait until they start talking about _marriage_.”

He didn’t get it. Couldn’t. Whatever. Maybe Felix _wanted_ Sylvain to be arrested. Felix kicked the bag and tried to consider…. Everything. What _was_ he doing here? What were _they_ doing here? Why had Dedue been calling every morning, like… like…

“Unless there’s something _else_ going on.” Sylvain kept going, because of course he did. Of course. “Given the situation…”

Felix punched the bag one last time.

“Why the _fuck_ does he think that _beast_ needs to wear the condoms?”

If his earlier… talk with his father had been unpleasant, dinner was actual _torture_. It was a small affair; just the four of them in a private room that should have been inviting and homely with a spread of thick meat, wine, and vegetables that were brown and spiced just right. Instead, Felix couldn’t help feeling as though he was being suffocated slowly by a set of invisible hands wrapping tighter and tighter around his neck and lungs.

Dimitri seemed to take it in stride though, and every few seconds he could feel the blonde’s long fingers gently running along his knee, as though Felix needed to be calmed like some skittish animal.

The worst part was that it seemed to be _working_.

Mostly.

Rodrigue placed his glass down, just in time to crack into laughter as the king of Faerghus told a long and involved story about some politician and a fluffy dog that made Felix cringe.

It was all so…

Normal.

Too normal.

“So… Lambert,” Rodrigue leaned back, reaching for the wine bottle to refill his glass. “You didn’t tell us our sons were dating.”

Felix’s fingers tightened around his fork. 

Lambert chuckled and looked at the two of them, “Apologies. It surprised me too, but Mitya has so many friends and acquaintances I figured I’d give him a little space. The tabloids, you know. Sometimes I believe they have my own phone bugged.”

“Felix didn’t tell me how you two met.” Rodrigue’s gaze was sharp, even as he smiled in a way that made Felix’s stomach churn. “He gave you a good impression, I hope?”

“Paris. I’d gone to see a friend of mine and we… ran into each other quite abruptly.” Dimitri answered smoothly. “He mentioned being interested in art and architecture, and I asked if he’d seen any of the works here.”

What a pathetic lie.

“Interesting.” Rodrigue smiled, “Felix certainly does love paintings. Did you have a chance to see Arundel’s personal collection while you were there?”

Goddess, Felix was going to scream. Hit something. 

“Let’s just say Arundel has been… less than warm with us,” Lambert sighed. “No matter how old I get, it surprises me just how they act. But I suppose he got what he deserved after all.” The king added another helping to his dish. “Terrible that he died so abruptly before his court date.”

Wait.

Beside him, Dimitri’s expression remained pleasant but Felix felt his fingers tighten very briefly against his knee.

“It did happen very suddenly.” Rodrigue agreed. “I’m surprised you heard about it.”

“I received a call about whether or not to petition to have the artwork returned a few days ago. Apologies, Mitya. I meant to tell you.” The king smiled again, “Don’t want you to feel obligated to take the crown _just_ yet, but I know you prefer to be involved in royal affairs.”

“Think nothing of it.” Dimitri’s pleasant, _fake_ smile stayed in place. “I’ve been busy with some philanthropic projects anyway. And it has been… nice, just spending time getting to know Felix better.”

The invisible hands around Felix’s chest turned into claws.

“Anyway,” Dimitri said, setting his own glass down. “You mentioned something special about your birthday, Father?”

“Ah! Yes!” Lambert grinned wickedly. “Roddie, do you remember that Halloween in our senior year? The one when you and I…”

“The costume party?” Rodrigue’s grin looked entirely immature. “When you and I dressed up as Gamera and Godzilla?”

Goddess.

Felix considered kicking the man just to make sure he hadn’t been replaced with a pod person.

Beside him, Dimitri’s smile remained but Felix didn’t miss the wolf-bright glint in his eyes.

“What are you planning?”

“I’m sorry?” Dimitri slid his henley off, and Felix did _not_ fixate on the flex of his muscles. His fingers itched. Felix’s whole body felt _taut_. He should have slept in his own room, with his own ugly wallpaper and he was absolutely certain his father would be there. 

Waiting for him. Waiting to _talk_.

“A costume party. You really think two grown men should be throwing a _costume_ party?” Felix scoffed as Dimitri crawled onto the bed, crawled into _his_ space because there always seemed to be an excessive amount of the blonde up close.

“Father sounded very excited by it.” Dimitri’s hand drifted up, brushed along Felix’s jaw. “Your father seems very kind. I’m glad he’s here.”

“He’s an Interpol agent.” Slowly he reached out, letting Dimitri guide him down so they were both on their sides. 

“Should I be concerned then?” Dimitri tilted his head, just watching. The glint was still there, and not for the first time did Felix feel like he was sleeping with a wild animal, barely restrained by some hidden leash.

His thumb brushed along the tattoo on Dimitri’s spine. Listened to only the soft sound of breaths, at the silence outside. 

Glenn had always told him to trust his instincts.

“No.” Felix tucked his head in and closed his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rodrigue had practiced The Talk for many years.  
> Glenn apparently reacted to it by giving Rodrigue way way too much detailed information and Felix didn't date because why date when you can have swords.
> 
> Dimitri's The Talk involved picture books.


	3. intrigue in tangiers

The next morning was, thankfully, less stressful. So far. Rodrigue had followed Lambert as the king went to visit with the ruling council and, presumably, do actual ruling. He’d followed Dimitri once, and had been thoroughly bored with all the bureaucratic posturing over how to regulate _cheese_. But the after had been… nice, watching how Dimitri had gone right out the door and spent some time conversing with random strangers outside the capital building that complained about such mundane things as their mid-day soaps being interrupted or the annoying traffic patterns and broken stoplights. Sylvain had outright laughed at Felix’s confusion, and shrugged as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

_It’s Faerghus. No point in hating the royal family when they sometimes come out to clear your driveway after a big snow, you know?_

It made Felix’s head hurt.

But he could breathe. At least for a little while. And do _something_ with himself.

Quietly.

“It’s confidential, all right. Took a few tries to get in, and I’m not so sure that I’ve gotten everything.” Annette – if her name really _was_ Annette - mused over the phone speaker. Felix could hear her fingers clicking quietly, and he wondered if she knew she was humming some song about cinnamon buns as she worked.

It was, admittedly, a good song.

“Have they done an autopsy yet?” Dimitri asked from near the windowsill. The blonde was still, with his arms crossed and his gaze fixed outside. Felix was absolutely certain he was missing something small, but very important.

“No. Looks like the remaining family won’t let it happen. He’s supposed to be cremated, and they’ve paid a lot of money to keep everything out of the news. Interpol’s pretty mad about it, but it’s probably more of a PR nightmare than it’s worth for them.”

Dimitri’s brows furrowed together. “Remaining family?”

“Sorry. No names to go off of. I can try getting with Ashe and trying to access records the old fashioned way, but…”

“No. It’s quite fine, thank you. I would rather you focus on that paper you mentioned earlier this week.” Dimitri tapped his elbow as he turned away just slightly to look at the phone. “I’m sure you can finish it, by the way.”

“Oh… right! Oh no, no,” Annette let out a nervous laugh, “I’m so doomed. Please don’t tell Mercie about that. Check in soon!”

Felix raised an eyebrow as the line went dead.

“I didn’t realize Lord Arundel had any remaining family.” Dimitri’s lips were set in a small frown. “I suppose it’s possible, given his lineage.”

“You mean _suspicious_.” Felix countered.

“For someone like him, there would be no greater insult than living in a common jail cell. More importantly,” Dimitri stood up, pushing himself away from the window. “We have a party to plan as well.”

That was _not_ the end of this. No way. “Or you could hire a party planner.”

“True. But I prefer to vet the list. It’s supposed to be a _party_ , not a political gathering. My eighteenth birthday… well,” Dimitri, for once, sounded genuinely embarrassed. “I had… many proposals that night.”

Felix bristled. “Proposals.”

“Sylvain and Dedue saved me from the worst of it”

Sylvain, Felix could understand. He was chatty and flippant, but he wasn’t _dumb_. It had made perfect sense the more Felix had considered it – Sylvan could slot into anywhere and fit in and if not, Ingrid’s fists would. Dedue though, he still didn’t understand. There always seemed to be a link between him and Dimitri that went deeper than simply muscle.

There was still so much about the group that was a cipher. And Dimitri didn’t always seem willing to share.

“So I want to make sure only a select group is invited. And there’s another few projects going on as well. _Public_ projects.” Dimitri continued on before Felix could question. “I don’t know if you’re interested in revenue discussions and what parts of the mountains to open up for ski season.”

“As if anyone with any common sense would go up on those things.” Felix huffed and leaned back in his chair. The computer in front of him was still open to different articles, all of them either about Munich or Paris, and both were alarmingly empty of relevant information. “You never told me why Arundel kidnapped that girl, by the way.”

“I didn’t?” Dimitri tilted his head. “I don’t remember you ever asking.”

Goddess. “I’m asking now.”

“It’s not my place to speak about her. But… I do not think he was alone in his pursuits.”

The thought of there being others made Felix’s stomach twist. Others that could have learned about their involvement.

And there they were, in a country where the king went out and shoveled _driveways_.

“You’re concerned.” 

“Of course I am. How do I know someone won’t just come in and stab you? Or…” Felix looked away, “You ate dinner with my _father_ , who…”

“Felix..” Dimitri knelt down, right between the dark-haired man’s legs. Felix’s blood pooled low in his gut, and he cursed whatever biological error was putting him on edge. “I did not invite you here to become my bodyguard you know.”

Felix crossed his arms, because the alternative was tugging on that ridiculously tied-back hair. “I know that.”

He was here to get help finding Glenn. And... figure out the man in front of him. Even now, it seemed so utterly _unreal_ for a person to be simultaneously so polite and princely and yet routinely stage thefts and whatever _else_ they were up to.

Come to think of it, Dimitri hadn't even _asked_ about being part of his team.

“And if I wanted to join you?”

Dimitri's eyelids fluttered. He leaned forward, and Felix indulged him. For now.

“Tell me. That you aren't doing something stupid while my old man is here.” Dimitri's hair felt good between his fingers, and even better as he tugged the tie free.

“I would rather your father like me, yes.” Dimitri replied.

  
  


“Sorry. I wasn't expecting that to take so long.” Lambert crowded into the black car next to Rodrigue as they exited the capital building. “Things aren't usually that exciting around here.”

“It was a breath of fresh air compared to what I'm used to.” The dark-haired man smiled good-naturedly. “Still arguing over ridiculous things, as always.”

“This batch is a lot more reasonable than in previous years.” The blonde king cracked his knuckles. “Of course, it's not as though policy has changed that much.”

“I'm impressed. I never could stand any of it.” Rodrigue shook his head, amused. “I'd rather be stuck in my office going over budget requests than _that_.”

“Funnily enough, Felix has said the same thing. Perhaps he's inherited more of you than you realize.” Lambert chuckled. “He's... been rather lively here.”

“I'm glad. He's... struggled, lately,” The dark-haired man looked out the window as they approached the Blaiddyd mansion. “It would do him some good to focus on something else.”

“Yes, well, there is more to do in this country than you'd think.” Lambert winked. “I have not convinced either of them to take advantage of our ski lodge. Mitya might still be afraid of it since last time a bear _was_ sleeping in the garage.”

Rodrigue snorted.

The drive back was peaceful enough, and indeed, the two young men were nowhere to be found inside the main level of the mansion. But, Rodrigue suspected, Felix would be avoiding him like the plague for the next few days.

So be it.

He followed Lambert to the large living room where an old black and white movie was already playing. The King of Faerghus was quickly uncorking a bottle of whiskey, and a plate of heavy cheese and crackers had been laid out.

Behind them, the phone rang. A staffer rushed over, but Lambert was faster.

“Hello? Oh, yes, he is here.” He held the phone out, and Rodrigue stood up to walk around the couch to get it.

“Yes? Ah.... yes.” Rodrigue closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. “You're sure?”

The person on the other end said one last thing and hung up.

Rodrigue waited a moment, calmly tapping his thumb against the receiver.

“Something from home?” Lambert cocked his head, “I'm surprised you gave out that number.”

“Apologies.” Rodrigue smiled, “Nothing to worry about.”


	4. Caution

“I am _not_ ,” Felix hissed indignantly, “wearing a costume.”

“Your dad is.” Sylvain grinned cheekily. “You wouldn’t want to ruin his night, would you?”

“Unlike my old man, I don’t feel the need to act like an eight year old.” That only caused Sylvain to laugh again, and Felix resisted the very real urge to kick him.

The redhead was dressed as Robin Hood, or the campy, Hollywood version of him at least. What made it worse was that he’d actually put some _thought_ into the whole thing. It was even fitted.

“Could be worse. He wanted to go as a bunny rabbit.” Ingrid muttered, carefully adjusting her hat. Her outfit was slightly classier – Sherlock Holmes, complete with a woolen overcoat that looked pleasantly warm.

“Well, briefly.” Sylvain winked. “Guess you’ll have to miss out on the party altogether. Pity because his Highness is kind of looking forward to it.”

Goddess only knew what they’d talked Dimitri into. 

“This whole thing is stupid. And dangerous.” The mansion had plenty of security and he’d personally pored through the guest list for anything strange. “You’re armed, right?”

They both stared at him as though Felix had grown two heads.

Felix rubbed painfully at his forehead.

“At least put on a mask? Sylvain held up a plain mask that looked suspiciously like a black cat. “For your dad’s sake?”

“I can give you a sword too.” Ingrid offered.

Ugh.

“I’ll do it… for the sword.”

The party was already started in the lawn. Guards were posted all around the outside perimeter, and people were slowly being let in from the front. The sun was just starting to go down, briefly illuminating the over-the-top rearing paper lions and glittering star-lanterns that outlined each tent. Upbeat music played out of various speakers and Felix could already feel his eardrums throbbing from the heavy vibrations.

Lambert and Rodrigue were in the center, dressed to the nines in leather and black, with matching masks with vampire teeth. Rodrigue waved at him and Felix flushed, then scanned the table around him. Perhaps it was good that Glenn _wasn't_ there to see how ridiculously embarrassing their father was.

Strangers. Not nearly as man as he was expecting, but...it was so many unknown variables.

“Oh! Felix!”

He turned too quickly.

Dimitri was wearing a plain white shirt and leggings – _tight_ ones, and a dramatic black coat. His mask was some sort of over-artistic snarling lion mask that obscured most of his face.

“You're....”

“Sylvain said it was a swashbuckler. I am not so sure of the accuracy..” Dimitri dipped his head and adjusted his cravat. (Cravat! Who wore a cravat?!) “But... it hardly matters.” He stepped closer and Felix forcibly resisted the urge to reach don and feel just how skin-hugging those damned pants were. “You look quite dashing.”

“I'm not wearing anything special, brute.” A plain shirt and black slacks.

And a sword.

Just in case.

Dimitri smiled; all teeth and sharpness. “Still...”

He was flirting.

In public

Maybe Felix would have been better off dragging the beast to the farthest locked room and keeping him _busy_ all night.

No. No. That was the wrong course of action. Instead, he fell in to step with the prince, scanning the grounds for anything suspicious. Dimitri stopped every few feet, bowing his head and greeting the guests as politely as was required.

Felix stayed close. In the distance, he could see Sylvan making the rounds while Ingrid hovered very close to the buffet table. He still didn't see Dedue anywhere, but that didn't mean he wasn't present.

Somewhere.

“It's all right to relax and enjoy yourself, you know.” Dimitri slid his arm out and slung it around Felix's shoulders and the air grew alarmingly hot. “This is a _party_ , Felix.”

“Need I remind you the last party we were at, we were held at gunpoint?” On instinct he looked at his old man again, who was busy singing some kind of terrible song with Faerghus's king.

Children.

Dimitri didn't respond beyond a low hum that was doing all sorts of things to short-circuit Felix's brain.

“It's a nice night for this. When I was little, I used to sneak out and go to the old ruins near the mountains. There are plenty of places to just... lose yourself there.” His voice was wistful, and brutally honest. “I wonder what you'd have thought of me back then.”

What did that even mean? “I...”

“Hey there! Dimitri!” Someone else ran up and Dimitri stalled, A tall man dressed as a vampire and a petite woman with blood-bright hair came up, waving.

“Ah.” Dimitri held his hand out and the strange man shook it eagerly. “Nathaniel. It's been a while.”

“Hasn't it?” The tall man smiled, glancing to Felix curiously. “Oh, yes. This is my date – Monica, this is Dimitri.” The blonde bowed his had as the girl cooed. “Remember the man I told you I used to ride horses with?”

“You left out that he's a _prince_.” Monica hid her head shyly behind the man – Nathaniel's – shoulder. “That's... kind of important, don't you think?”

“Oh, well, believe me – _I_ forget he's a prince. You kind of forget that when you're knee-deep in stable cleaning.” Nathaniel chuckled and winked. “Remember that time when you accidentally broke the barn door?”

Dimitri coughed and bowed his head, awkwardly fussing with his cravat. “It was entirely my mistake. I'm surprised you remember it still. Forgive my manners- this is Felix. He is my partner tonight.”

Partner.

How... neutral.

Felix at least deigned to nod his head, but it was clear that Nathaniel-whoever-he-was had apparently gotten sidetracked talking about more embarrassing childhood stories. Instead, he looked down at Monica...

Who was looking directly at him with a pensive stare behind her small mask.

“Have we met before?” she asked, tilting her head as her carefully-manicured nails curled around Nathaniel's sleeve. “Maybe in a school?”

“No.” Felix remembered faces. _Terribly_ well. “Why?”

“No reason.” She glanced up, gently tugging on her date's sleeve again. “Natty, why don't we take D.. _Prince_ Dimitri over to meet everyone else? I'm sure they miss him too.”

Dimitri's arm withdrew from Felix's neck. Felix bristled at the loss of warmth. “That sounds pleasant. Felix, would you please go get some drinks for us”

Was he _serious_? “I'd rather not.”

“I'm sure my father would appreciate your well-wishes. And I am thirsty...” Dimitri squeezed his wrist gently. “I will not take long. I'll be over by the blue tent where the cake is.”

“I hate cake.” He glowered, but assented. “Don't... do anything foolish.”

“Oh don't worry – we aren't taking him far.” Nathaniel chuckled and clapped Dimitri's shoulder. “Come on. I want you to meet some of our other friends. Do you remember Christine? She's _engaged_ now.”

Felix watched attentively as the prince disappeared into the crowd.

Fine.

He'd be fine.

Felix was absolutely _not_ hovering over a grown man. He stormed towards the central tent, neatly avoiding whatever crowd he could.

“You look like you're going to murder someone.” Rodrigue commented as Felix sourly grabbed two drinks.

“You can't even see my _face_ , Old Man.”

“I don't need to. Surprised you even decided to make an appearance.” Rodrigue brought his glass up to his lips to take a small sip. “Seems like a good party so far.”

Felix scoffed indignantly. “Right.”

“You know... apparently an art gallery in London received a tip that the Blue Lion would be visiting tonight” Rodrigue whispered. In front of them, Lambert was speaking animatedly with some kind of visiting dignitaries in royal golds and whites. He seemed in his element; commanding attention with a learned grace.

“Did they now?” Dimitri hadn't mentioned a damn thing. But of _course_ he hadn't.

“I'm surprised. You're usually all over these things. “ Rodrigue crossed his arms, turning to look closer at Felix through his hideous rubber mask. “You're not interested?”

Breathe. Focus.

_Lie_.

“I'm not rude enough to bail on this party.”

“You really do have a thing for him, don't you?”

Felix flushed. “Why do you _always_ have to make things awkward?” Whatever. Felix didn't have to stay around. “I'll... investigate. On my own. Tomorrow.” He downed a whole glass of wine in one go. He'd need all the alcohol he could find at this point. 'Anything suspicious?”

“Nothing so far. You don't _always_ have to be so paranoid, Felix.” Rodrigue chuckled. “Enjoy yourself tonight. Let me take care of the guard duty.”

“...So you _are_ expecting something.”

Rodrigue sighed. “Go. Get drunk. Make sure he wears a condom.”

“You...!” Felix bowed his head, grabbing tightly to another drink. “Never mind. Good riddance, Old Man.”

Ingrid watched him closely from her spot near the buffet. She marched forward, catching up to him as he stormed back to where Dimitri was supposed to be.

“Felix... you feeling all right?”

“I'm fine.” There the prince was, as expected, holding court with a group of other _friends_ that all seemed to be dressed like cheap superheroes. He turned, tilting his head slightly as Felix held out his glass.

“Ah... thank you.” The prince smiled softly. “No cake?”

Wait.

Felix's stomach twisted.

“Felix?”

The unease of earlier was quickly morphing into warning bells.

"Felix..." Ingrid repeated, and did she see it? She had to see it, right?

“Can we... go inside? For a minute? Your father wanted to see us.” 

The prince hesitated, glancing at him and then the partygoers.

“If you insist...” He nodded and excused himself, following Felix and Ingrid towards the entrance.

The door closed. Ingrid opened her mouth to ask a question.

Felix slammed his fist into the prince's jaw, sending him colliding into the wall.

“Felix?! Ingrid snapped.

The mask cracked, just slightly as the fake-prince slid down to the floor.

“Who the _fuck_ are you and _where the fuck is he_?!” Felix snarled.


	5. anyone alive?

Whoever it was, really did look like Dimitri. Same hair, same jawline, same fine nose. But the eyes were a little too grey; a little too slanted and just looking at the impostor was making Felix more and more angry.

“What in the Goddess's name...” Ingrid hissed behind him. She stood straighter, reaching deep inside her coat to pull out a small pistol. “What's going on, Felix?!”

“I don't know.” And he didn't. “It wasn't... Dimitri doesn't smile. Not like that.” All he'd thought about was getting the stranger alone, and now his mind couldn't seem to re-focus.

Some stranger had been wearing Dimitri's clothes. Had slipped in, sometime when Felix had walked away.

Dimitri was gone.

The impostor just glared up at them silently.

Ingrid 's eyes narrowed, her finger hovering over the safety. “Sylvain, are you there?”

Two seconds later, the door opened and one very stressed redhead appeared.

“That's not Dimitri.” Sylvain said, slowly.

“We noticed.” Felix growled. And they were wasting time, while... while Dimitri could have been anywhere. “I was just about to start cutting this bastard's fingers off until he explained himself.”

“I can't tell you anything.” He even _sounded_ like Dimitri, with the barest hint of an accent. “But the longer you waste your time with me, the more likely he's already been disposed of.”

“Ingrid, tie this guy up. I'm going to get in touch with His Majesty. Felix...” Sylvain looked at him, “You...”

“I'm finding him.” No. They wouldn't have killed him.

Right?

...Right?

“No, _you_ are going to get your father. No offense, but you aren't exactly big on common sense when His Highness is involved.”

“ _What_?” What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“You heard me.” Sylvain reached up, tugging on his ear to reveal a small piece that Felix had missed underneath the hat. “Ingrid, let's get going. _Fast_.”

Screw this. “I don't have time to debate with you.”

The redhead sighed, looking exceedingly put-upon. “Just... don't do anything stupid. We're at a disadvantage here. And take an earpiece with you. I have an extra one...”

Dammit all. “You thought something could happen tonight?”

“We weren't sure. But... Dimitri didn't want us to worry which is what he says when we _should_ be worried.” Sylvain pulled his hat off entirely and ran his index finger along the brim. There was another piece carefully hidden beneath, and Goddess knew what else Sylvain was hiding on his person.

Felix was starting to reconsider just what the redhead was capable of.

“You know how to use one of these, right?” Sylvain held the small device out.

It didn't quite fit right in Felix's ear, but it would work well enough.

“Be careful,” Sylvain said, his voice echoing through the small electronic device.

He breathed in and nodded. “I'll be careful.” He was _always_ careful.

“Here.” Ingrid handed Felix her weapon. “I've got him. Trust me – he'll talk.”

“Thanks.” He tucked the weapon into his belt and rushed out.

Outside, everything was calm. Felix grit his teeth and searched the crowd, looking for... something. Dimitri had been with Nathaniel's group, which was still gathered together and eating from the buffet table.

Except he didn't see bright red.

Felix moved with intent, trying his best to not look like he was panicked. Because he definitely _was_ calm, Dimitri would be _fine_...

“Monica.” Felix jabbed Nathaniel in the shoulder. “Where is she?”

The tall man blinked, awkwardly dropping his spoon. “I'm sorry?”

“Your girlfriend. Where is she right now?”

“If you're accusing her of impr...”

Felix dug his fingers in, hard enough that Nathaniel choked back a curse. “I _will_ break your arm. Where is she?”

“Goddess, why do you care?” Nathaniel yanked on Felix's wrist and glanced awkwardly at his friends. “She said the wine was making her a little lightheaded and Dimitri escorted her inside. Didn't he tell you?”

“Where did you meet her?”

“Are you some kind of tabloid reporter? I was told there would be absolutely no...”

“Is there a problem here?” Felix stiffened, automatically dropping his hand as his father came up behind him. Rodrigue gently gripped Felix's arm, “Felix?”

“Just get him away from me.” Nathaniel turned away, rolling his shoulder with an indignant huff. The others around him turned away too, clearly done with whatever drama Felix had attempted to kick up.

Felix decided he hated all of them.

“Felix...” Rodrigue repeated, yanking at his arm to lead him to a quieter corner. “Over here. Now.”

 _Better listen to him_ , Sylvain chimed in helpfully.

“Shut up.”

Rodrigue scowled.

“It's...” Felix hesitated, “Not you. Someone else.”

“Inside.” Rodrigue's voice dropped.

His old man dragged him into a small side-room, where Lambert and Sylvain were already talking The King of Faerghus's expression was grim, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I miscalculated.” Lambert rumbled, looking at the two of them. His entire body radiated tension.

“I did as well. I am so sorry.” Rodrigue let go of Felix and tore his mask off entirely. “ _Dammit_.”

Felix felt like his chest was growing too tight. “You knew.”

“No. We only knew _I_ was being targeted. But... my boy's not some weak kitten.” The King of Faerghus clutched his chair so hard Felix could hear the wood cracking. “We'll flush them out.”

“Them who? What's going on?”

“I can't say anymore to a civilian.” Rodrigue had _that_ voice – the one that meant Felix wasn't supposed to be listening in. “I'll give the order to shut down the perimeter. If you can stay somewhere safe...”

Lambert nodded. “Sylvain, you and Ingrid will accompany me. Felix... will you tell me what happened?”

He bit back a retort. They'd known. They'd _known_ something terrible could happen.

And no one had thought to tell him.

“He came in here with some girl named Monica. That's all I know.” He was wasting time again. They _knew,_ and Dimitri was...

“Is she still here?”

“No. But no one's been out and the guards are exactly where they were supposed to be.” Sylvain frowned, hesitating. “Majesty... Ingrid says our guest used the tunnels to get in.”

“You have _tunnels_?” Rodrigue and Felix said simultaneously.

“They exit out into the base of the mountains where the old ruins of the castle are. Of course...” Lambert began.

Felix didn't listen.

He avoided his father's grip and Sylvain's shouting, dodging the guards that tried to slow him down.

 _Be careful_ , Ingrid whispered into his ear. _I'll search the tunnels_. _We'll find him_.

They had to.

It occurred to Felix as he navigated his way towards the looming mountains, that he had indeed not thought everything through. The bright glow of the city and the well-lit area of the Blaiddyd mansion served as a fixed point, but the only other source of light was the almost-full moon above.

Then again, a flashlight would have made him a very visible target, and he wasn't entirely certain whoever had taken Dimitri would be willing to give him back.

The ruins were jagged patterns that rose and fell, still mostly holding together despite their age. At one point it had probably been an impressive castle, and Felix vaguely remembered seeing paintings of it in the mansion. As it stood now, it was just a few lonely towers and squat, square buildings that occasionally were visited by tourists or historians trying to piece together the career of Loog and Kryphon.

It was quiet.

Disturbingly silent.

Felix crept close to a still-standing wall and breathed, trying to think of where to even start. Lights. He should look for lights...

He stumbled, barely catching himself as he tripped over something on the ground.

Not something.

Someone.

The dark-haired man sat up, hastily clutching at the fabric to try and get a look at the still body. It wasn't Dimitri – whoever it _had_ been had facial hair and was dressed warmly. Felix fumbled lower and felt something round and hard near the still-hand.

A flashlight.

He looked around and breathed, then flicked the button.

The man was indeed dead, his neck snapped at an unnatural angle. That was...

Something heavy collided into his back. Felix turned, reaching for the weapon at his waist as he raised his elbow. His attacker caught him, free hand wrapping tight around his throat.

Felix cursed, the flashlight rolling away.

The pressure softened, and his attacker leaned closer.

“Oh..” Dimitri breathed, swaying. “Felix.”


	6. the fan and the bellows

Felix hadn't really ever thought about whether his life was normal or not. He had a normal (enough) single , kind of moronic father, and a normal enough older brother that could be kind of a dick when the mood struck him. He'd gone to a normal private school, and then college, and maybe his father and brother had... not-so-normal jobs, but they still had normal dinners and celebrated normal holidays and had even had normal arguments over normal subjects like sports. Normally.

There was very little that could be normal about being in the middle of the ruins of an old castle, in the dark, with a missing prince hovering above him.

“You're alive.” Felix couldn't seem to move, too afraid that he had simply lost his mind or that his entire body was going to implode on itself.

Said prince leaned his head in, nuzzling at Felx's neck like some oversized puppy. “I am alive.”

Felix twitched and slowly, carefully ran his hands along the blonde's neck, relieved to feel a steady, if not a little too quick, pulse. Alive. He was alive. He let his hands move lower, tracing over...

The air was _definitely_ getting hotter.

“You're only wearing briefs.”

“I seem to be.” Dimitri tried to draw back, and Felix didn't miss the way Dimitri's muscles spasmed as the dark-haired man's palms brushed over something hot and wet, right above Dimitri's hipbone.

“You're bleeding.”

“I believe so.” Dimitri released Felix, sliding to sit by his side. “Apologies. I am... drugged. I think.”

“You think.” Felix sat up, hastily grabbing onto the flashlight. He turned it on Dimitri, wincing as he saw the deep cut on his side and the several scratches and blossoming red bruises all over his arms and chest They needed to get back and get a doctor, and then....

“I seem to remember waking up as we exited the tunnel. It's... not entirely clear.” The prince swung his gaze around, frowning. “I don't think they expected me to wake up so quickly.”

Felix suddenly had a much clearer idea about how the man had died.

Dammit. Not now. He couldn't think about it.

He crawled over to the dead man and began working on pulling his shirt free. Not like he'd need them anymore anyway. The trousers were more difficult, but he'd had a lot of experience with going after belts and buttons lately. He tossed the fabrics to Dimitri who stared vacantly for a moment before pulling the too-big clothing on.

“Do you think you can make it back?” If not they'd have to find a safe spot to hide out. Felix's earpiece had gone silent, whether due to being out of range or something... else, he wasn't sure.

“I can't. Yet.” Dimitri fumbled with the buttons on the shirt. “They are still here.”

They? “You can't be _serious_.” Gods above, why had he...

developed _feelings_...

For such an idiot?

“Please do hide.” The prince turned his head, surveying the area around the mountains. Which Felix thought was completely pointless – there was nothing but shadows and blackness and far, far too many places for someone to ambush. “I won't be long.”

“You really are an idiot.” Felix considered – very briefly – knocking the blonde out and dragging him somewhere _safe_. “Let the police handle whoever it is.”

“Felix…” Dimitri’s voice dropped, taking on a low growl that made the dark-haired man’s hair stand on end. “They are on _my_ lands.”

“And you’re the heir to the kingdom. If you died, I…” Felix ducked, just in time as a gunshot rang out in the cool air.

Dimitri ducked down, covering Felix with his bulk. They both moved back behind the wall, another few bullets cracking through the stone.

Felix turned the flashlight off hurriedly, sending everything back into hazy darkness.

“We’re leaving.” Felix repeated in a harsh whisper that still sounded far too loud. “Before _you_ do something dangerous.”

“They know where we are and there isn’t enough cover between here and the mansion.” Dimitri nosed at Felix’s temple, “I’ll provide the distraction. Head to your right and look or the tower wall.”

“Do... Dimitri!” The blonde grabbed the flashlight, turned it on, and tossed it several feet away, and the noise of bullets echoed again. Dimitri shoved Felix down before he turned, shooting a barrage in quick succession.

The gunfire stopped abruptly.

“I thought you didn't know how to use guns,” Felix hissed. He couldn't see anyone, but that meant they couldn't see them... right?

“I said I do not like guns. There is a difference.” Dimitri stood up, taking a moment to breathe before he pushed Felix along a perimeter of heavy black stones. “In here.”

There was a crumbling gap of an entrance that somehow, they slipped through.

If it was dark outside, it was completely sightless inside. Felix blinked several times, just to make certain that his eyes were open. Somewhere, there was a sound of water dripping from some unseen source.

“This doesn't feel any more secure.” He stood perfectly still, focusing only on the sound of Dimitri's steady breathing and the blonde padding quietly around him. He was... sorting through? Something?

A dull blue light flickered to life. It cast eerie shadows, but at least it was better than blackness. Dimitri held up the small lamp, and Felix shivered.

“As I said. I used to come here often.” He held the light out, and Felix hesitantly gripped the handle. “It has not changed very much.”

In the dim light, he looked very pale. Almost ghostly. An ancient king, summoned just to protect his lands.

“This way.” Dimitri walked slowly, and Felix could tell the blonde's movements were a little too stiff and forced. Below them, he could hear uneasy groans as pebbles clattered about.

“It's the water running through.” Dimitri murmured. “There are quite a few rivers and caves beneath us.”

Felix still didn't like it.

The path swerved and wound upwards, finally opening out in a small grotto.

There was a bed, a tiny little generator, and various other amenities huddled up against a smooth wall. Above them, several stalactites hung eerily downwards like teeth ready to bite.

“A family secret. Father will most likely already know I triggered the sensor.” Dimitri squeezed Felix's hand. “You'll be safe here.”

“No...” Felix's throat felt very dry. “ _We_ stay here.”

“I told you I need...”

“You _need_ a doctor.” Felix snapped. His grip on the lamp tightened, and he didn't miss the way Dmitri's eyes narrowed. “Don't – I know you're about to say something that will make want to end you before these bastards do.”

“If they intended to kill me, do you not think they would have done it immediately?”

Goddess.

Felix reached up, rubbing at his forehead. “Why are you _like_ this?”

This time, at least the blonde had the good sense to look somber. “Felix...” Felix winced, but Dimitri pulled him close, resting his long fingers against the back of Felix's neck. Dimitri's lips were chapped, and kind of gross, and his tongue was clumsy against Felix's teeth.

It wasn't romantic at all.

“I'm still going to kick you head in,” Felix warned, letting his fingers of his free hand curl around Dimitri's wrist.

“I do love how difficult you are.” Dimitri bumped their foreheads together, letting his whole body relax just slightly. “I told you. I will not allow people to kill on my behalf. And if it means dealing with an unseen threat, I...”

“That's stupid. You're a prince.” Felix looked down, because even in the dark there was no way he could meet those eyes. “Think about someone other than yourself for once.”

Dimitri's breath stuttered. Felix huffed.

“Enough of this stupid martyr act. You have too many people that... depend. On you.” Felix really was going to implode. In a stupid old tower with a man that had as much common sense as a boar.

“Felix...”

Dimitri _moved_ , yanking Felix close behind him as there was a distinct, metallic click.

“There you are.” Monica smiled sweetly, holding tightly to her own weapon. “I've been looking for you.”

Shit.

“You...” Dimitri growled, low and dangerous. Below them, the ground made another unpleasant shudder.

“I just need to keep you alive for a little longer. And you...” Monica glanced behind him, “Felix, was it? That's right... Felix. Do you have a big brother Felix?”

Felix glowered. As if he'd give her the satisfaction of an answer.

“You look just like him. Glenn, I mean.” Felix's entire body froze, and he could swear he felt the world shaking like his hands were. “Don't you want to see him again? Might work out better for us to have a Prince and another Agarthan in Interpol.”

“Do I get to at least hear what you intend to do to me?” Dimitri's fingers tightened around Felix's arm, and Felix could only hear the roar of his blood, so very loud, louder than the feeling of his hand moving down to the weapon at his waist

“Sorry. You...”

It happened very quickly.

The ground collapsed. Monica cried out, shooting wildly as above them, the stalactites cracked free and fell.

Dimitri rushed forward, trying to grab for the woman's hand. Felix was faster, using all his strength to yank him backwards as more and more of the ceiling came down. It pounded against his back, deafening ad wild.

The rumbling stopped.

The world went silent.

_Lix? Hey, Felix_? _Felix..._

Of all people to hear when he was dying, it had to be Sylvain.

_That's rude._

Felix's eyes fluttered open and he winced painfully as a bright light was held far too close to his eye.

“It's okay.” Ingrid brushed his hair back. “We're here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey have y'all ever watched The Castle of Cagliostro?  
> You should totally watch The Castle of Cagliostro.


	7. In Answer

“Here. Because I know you'll be digging for it anyway.” Rodrigue tossed a few newspapers at his son, who curled his fingers around them with only mild interest.

English newspapers. The second pages, set neatly in the top left corner, all covered the mysterious theft of an old jade-lily necklace made several centuries ago, and the only thing that remained was a calling card with a Blue Lion.

Felix grunted.

“Convenient, if you ask me. That the heist happened exactly the same night as the party.” Rodrigue continued, slowly settling into the chair by the small bed. He winced, gingerly rubbing at his injured arm.

“I think you're paranoid.” Felix tossed the papers on the edge of the bed. “And stupid. You're supposed to be _resting_ , Old Man.”

“Same to you.” Rodrigue countered.

Felix scowled.

Rodrigue stared back.

“Don't worry. I'm not old enough to think about retirement _just_ yet. I've had worse than a dislocated shoulder.” Rodrigue reached out, gently ruffling his son's hair until Felix reached up, batting his hand away.

“That you won't tell me about. Or.. anything.” Felix huffed, crossing his arms.

Perhaps that had been the worst part. He'd come to in a small hospital room where a random doctor poked and prodded at him, and then he'd been moved to a private wing of the mansion in order to “recover.”

He'd been told, with a considerable amount of pleasantries, that everyone was _fine_ and that everything was _fine_ , and that he didn't need all the details just yet.

And any time he'd tried to slip out of his room to go _somewhere_ , he'd been gently corralled back by a very burly guard.

It was demeaning.

“Did you find her? Monica?”

“We haven't found her.” It had been a long shot – Felix didn't remember everything entirely clearly, but it seemed hard to believe anyone could survive having a mountain swallow you.

And yet he and Dimitri had.

“Did that fake bastard talk?” Rodrigue had been reluctant to talk, but sooner or later, Felix would find out. Usually in less... legal ways.

“He talked.”

“And said?”

His old man frowned, casting his gaze downwards to look at the patterned floor. “Felix... there is a great deal I wish I could tell you. That you could assist in. But you're a _civilian_ , and you have a very good sense about getting into trouble. I can't just tell you confidential information over dinner.”

“I _know_ that,” Felix grit his teeth and curled his fingers, forcing back a surge of irritation. “But...”

“But I find out you keep finding the most dangerous place to be at any time, and I can't save you from it.” Rodrigue sighed. “You don't _think_ , you just _act_.”

“That's not...” It wasn't true. He thought. All the time. “I told you. I'm going to find Glenn.”

“And if you die beforehand?”

“I won't.” Felix knew how to take care of himself. He was a _Fraldarius_ , for fuck's sake. “I have a lead now.”

“Felix...”

“That Monica person... she knew Glenn.”

Rodrigue's eyes widened. His lips dropped into a frown,but even he couldn't hide his surprise. “What....? Felix...”

“She said I look just like him. So if you want me to or not, I'm not giving up on this.”

And whoever it was, had tried to kidnap Dimitri. For... some reason.

“Absolu...”

“May I cut in?”

They both looked up as the door creaked open.

The King of Faerghus stood at the entrance. He looked pale, and tired, but with no visible injuries. His golden-blonde hair was ruffled, the barest of strands falling near his eyes.

Felix's throat tightened.

“With all due respect, Roddie, they went after _my son_. And the person who saved him from a worse fate is yours. I believe he can at least be given a little more information than a normal citizen.” Lambert reached out, resting his too-large hand on Rodrigue's shoulder. “For his own protection too, of course.”

Rodrigue hesitated. “I can't. Legally, or morally.”

“Seeing as how this is _my_ kingdom, perhaps I am allowed to determine the legalities in this particular matter? You are free to leave the room, of course. Plausible deniability.”

His old man hesitated. Felix could practically hear the wheels turning; each and every angle being reassessed and reconsidered and weighed among other options.

“I've got to speak to Catherine. And make sure the area is secured. Felix... just... don't do anything reckless.” Rodrigue stood up, gripping briefly to Lambert's hand.

Felix felt an ache, and a distinct lack of warm fingers against his bare skin.

Rodrigue closed the door behind him.

It was quiet.

Very quiet.

Felix had never considered how to talk to a king. Not really. Now, he wasn't even sure if he was _allowed_ to speak.

“Thanks. Your... Majesty,” he fumbled, trying very hard to look at the center of Lambert's chest. “Thank you.”

“Are you being treated well?” Lambert asked.

“Well enough.” Felix's tongue felt heavy, but now, alone... “How is he?”

“Resting. For the time being, we thought it best to provide extra security and for him to not move about. “

Part of Felix felt like he could breathe again. “Can I..”

“I do apologize. There is... an organization that exists, and has been targeting certain families for the past few years. Perhaps even longer than that. Their intentions are unknown, but nothing good. I had good intelligence that they were attempting to target my country, and so I decided to chase them instead.”

No wonder Dimitri was so... frustratingly _dense_. “And they went after Dimitri.”

“It was a risk we are both willing to take. And, as you've noticed, we are not made of china. Still... I have no doubt after this they will be more difficult to trace. That said, it is not entirely hopeless.” Lambert's gaze darkened. “We have leads. And I can assure you, it is a _very_ dangerous thing to make an enemy of my country. We have many means of protecting ourselves and others.”

The King paused, glancing towards the door and then back at Felix. His expression smoothed out, and he stood straighter. “What I am asking of you, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, is to protect my son. He is a good man, and one that will one day make an excellent king. But he also wishes to right whatever wrong is in front of him, and I fear he will stretch himself too thin trying to heal the world's ills.”

Felix flushed. A good man. That ran a group of art thieves and killed people with his bare hands. “I'm not his babysitter.”

“But you love him.”

The room felt suddenly far too small.

Felix's stomach twisted in knots as he looked away. “I...”

“I do not think this is the last we will see of those interlopers. But, for the time being, rest, and consider my request.” Lambert bowed, which was a ridiculous thing for royalty to do. “Good day, Felix.”

Felix hesitated. “Agarthan.”

Lambert stopped.

“She said the word 'Agarthan.' And.. that they had someone. In Interpol.”

“Thank you. And do be careful. Your father would be... upset with me if any harm came to his son.”

Felix scoffed, or tried to at any rate. “He's a worrywart.”

“And he is immensely proud of you. You two can be very similar, if you have not noticed. Good day, Felix.”

The door closed, and Felix was left alone with his thoughts.

Too many thoughts.

He needed _air_.

Dedue was waiting at the door to Dimitri's room, as still and solid as stone.

Felix, despite himself, felt like he was being opened up and considered inch by inch.

He didn't like it at all.

“I came to see him.” he said, because it wasn't as though he could think of anything else.

“His Highness needs rest.” Dedue rumbled, not moving a single inch.

“I'm not going to drag him out on a run or anything.” He just...

Wanted to know.

“I must ask – why are you here, still?” Dedue crossed his arms.

“What business is it of yours?” Really. It wasn't like Dimitri hadn't talked to Dedue every day, and spoken in glowing terms about his cooking or his gardening or whatever else the blonde had thought _charming_.

“I do not trust you.”

Felix scoffed

“His Highness is very kind. Painfully so, and ….”

“Your _kind_ prince,” Felix sniped “killed people.”

“Because he did not wish harm to befall anyone else.” Dedue's eyes narrowed. “If you truly understood him, you would understand just how _indulgent_ he has been, and has not asked for a thing in return.”

Indulgent.

He was being _indulged_.

Felix's fingers balled into a fist, all set to snap, do something to return the world into balance somehow...

“Oh, excuse me.”

Dedue's eyes darted past Felix and his gaze softened.

A petite woman with bobbed, cinnamon-brown hair walked up, carrying a tray of warm food and orange juice. She smiled warmly and gave a slight curtsy.

“Felix, isn't it?” She tilted her head as she examined Felix, and the black-haired men again felt strangely exposed. “He's been asking when you'd stop by.”

Dedue rumbled, and Felix pointedly ignored it. “You are...?”

“Mercedes.” When she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkled upwards. “I'm a nurse.”

“Oh.” That didn't seem... “Is he...?” He knew that name.

Why did he know that name?

Goddess, he'd been an absolute idiot with words lately.

“He's doing very well. You must care about him a lot to have broken your curfew just to come here.”

Why was the temperature always _hot_ around here?

“Maybe you could take this in for me? I'm sure he'd be pleased to see you.” The brunette held out the tray, “But do make him take his medicine, please.”

“Mercedes...” Dedue hesitated.

“Dedue, I'd really appreciate your assistance in cutting up some vegetables for tonight's meal. You're much better with a knife than I am, after all.”

Dedue looked at her, then back to Felix. Slowly, his hands drifted back to his sides. “Felix. I suggest you consider now why you remain in Faerghus, and what you intend to do while you are here. His Highness deserves that much from you.”

“Goodbye for now, Felix.” Mercedes bowed her head and turned, Dedue walking a few steps behind her.

Somehow, Felix felt like he'd been had.

Dimitri was sitting up in bed when he entered.

He looked....

Not terrible.

There was a patch of gauze over his eye, and several bandages wrapped around his midsection. Felix could see a set of stitches running along his right arm, and another set near his hipbone. Several purple-brown bruises dotted all along his skin, but he was in one piece.

Felix breathed in. Out.

“Felix...” Dimitri smiled softly. Warmly.

How did he manage to look so...unreal?

“I brought you lunch. Mercedes said to take your medicine, whatever that means.” Felix went over to the bed on unsteady legs, resisting whatever stupid urge was telling him to lean in close and touch, make sure this was _real_. “So...”

“Thank you.” Dimitri took the tray, and his fingers burned as they brushed along Felix's. “I'm not particularly hungry, but it is very difficult to argue with her.”

“Why did you invite me here?” Felix blurted out.

Shit.

 _Shit_.

Dimitri blinked, still awkwardly holding the tray halfway up.

“You invited me here.” Felix repeated, suddenly aware of how _weird_ his voice sounded. “But you don't have me running little _errands_ , or joining your band of criminals, and I can't... what's the _reason_ , Dimitri?”

“Would you believe I just wanted to know you better?”

Goddess.

“I don't get you. You _kill_ people. You keep the most ridiculous of secrets. And then you...”

“I?” Dimitri blinked owlishly.

Felix let out a frustrated growl and tipped his head forward, rubbing painfully between his eyelids.

And it didn't matter.

Felix was still here, and was stupidly, confusingly... _feeling_ things.

“You make no sense.”

“I'm sorry. For vexing you.”

“Don't apologize when you don't even know why I'm upset.” Felix watched as Dimitri set the tray carefully on the end table. The prince adjusted his blankets and looked up, holding his hand out for Felix to take.

“You're injured.” Felix groused as he allowed himself to be pulled forward, right onto the blankets.

“I'll live.” Dimitri settled him down, pulling Felix close so the black-haired man was settled against his hips.

Felix inhaled and exhaled, taking in the scent of aloe and antiseptic. Dimitri's shoulder was warm, and he'd had worse pillows in his life.

He didn't complain – much – as Dimitri's hand began to rub up and down his spine.

“It was Ashe, wasn't it? In London?” Felix mumbled, each and every muscle starting to unwind.

“He was not alone.” Dimitri hummed back quietly. His fingers stopped, just for a second, and Felix grunted his displeasure. “You are right, by the way. I do not wish for anyone else to bear my burdens, yet... it is unfair to you. All of you.”

“And stupid.”

He could feel Dimitri's lips curve upwards. “I cannot disagree.”

“Did you know that the cave would collapse?”

“I knew where to avoid dangerous spots.”

“I still want to find my brother.” No. “I'm _going_ to find Glenn. After that though...”He hesitated, just for a moment, before he slid his arms to rest comfortably around Dimitri's too-broad shoulders. “I can... live with this.”

Dimitri kissed his temple, tilted his head so that he could kiss Felix's nose. Felix tilted his head back, and this time the kiss was considerably better than the last.

“Take your medicine, Dimitri.”

“Hey, anyone out there right now?”

“Sylvain, there's no need to be so mysterious.”

“Ingrid, we have a _tradition_.”

“Sorry. Running a little late. Had to deliver some jewelry. Annette and I are present.”

“Dedue and I are here as well. It's good to hear from everyone.”

“If I may... how is His Highness?”

“Recovering. He intended to be a part of this call but we encouraged him to rest.”

“And his attacker?”

“Never anger a mountain in Faerghus, Ashe.”

“That's... oh my.”

“ _Anyway_ , since Sylvain is so intent on wasting time – we might have a problem here. Arundel's web went way deeper than we first thought. Way, way deeper.”

“So we should lay low for a while?”

“I'm more concerned about His Highness's safety. Whoever it is, probably isn't going to stop.”

“And there's.. him too.”

“Do you think he's dangerous?”

“Felix? Not intentionally. He's got a good eye for things. Problem is, he's a little too eager to kick over beehives, and smart enough to find them.”

“I kind of like him. A lot. Not that I want to invite him to join us, or anything. Then again, I haven't met him, but... he's been finding some really juicy stuff in databaes.”

“I've only met him once, so I can't say a lot. He definitely is a little unrefined for a thief, though.”

“I do not trust him.”

“Mercedes? What about you?”

“I think he cares for His Highness very deeply. And His Highness does seem more centered now than he used to be.”

“Well... I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least.”

“That's pretty generous of you, Ingrid.”

“I think we'll need the extra manpower... because I have a bad feeling right now that things are going to get very messy.”

There was an irritating, hellish buzz coming from the night table.

Felix was faster this time, rolling over to slam his hand against the stupid cellphone and toss it into the corner before his pillow could wake up.

The buzzing continued.

Felix's hand drifted up, curling around a vibrating, run-of-the-mill phone. He picked it up, partially to glare at it, and mostly to chew out whoever thought it was a good idea to call someone at fuck-o-clock AM in the morning.

“ _What_ ,” he growled, waiting to unleash all his irritation.

“Is this...” the voice stopped.

Felix's heart thumped.

“Licks?”

“Glenn?”

His brother cursed, and in the background there was a distinct noise of gunfire. “ _Shit_. Listen. Get Dad. Tell him to find Seiros.”

“Glenn, where...”

“Seiros. Nemesis is coming. Tell _no one_ but Dad.”

There was a crack, and the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the record -  
> Ingrid, Lambert, and Rodrigue went full Ballroom Blitz on the folks that tried to invade the birthday party. The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen it's hard enough talking to your dad about relationships and relationship advice without the whole international criminal aspect and that you might have hacked into your dad's workplace a couple of times courtesy of a tiny woman who likes to sing about cookies and nom noms.


End file.
